


A Taste for Underdogs

by pixie_rings



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Altean Hunk (Voltron), Altean Keith (Voltron), Altean Lance (Voltron), Altean Pidge | Katie Holt, Altean Shiro (Voltron), Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), F/M, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Past AU, Romance, altean au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13882428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: Altea is at war with the Galra, and without Voltron to defend it, it is vulnerable. King Alfor tasks his generals with finding five candidates for Paladins, and Princess Allura will do the choosing, which means she cannot be in contact with any of them. This is the opportunity Shiro, the only survivor of an Altean mission gone horribly wrong, has been desperate for to redeem himself in the eyes of the people of Altea. But he and Allura can't seem to resist each other, and his team is less than ready for forming Voltron...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I haven't written anything for a very long time, life has been unkind and university has been kicking my ass. But here is something I've been wanting to share for a while! This is an AU where everyone is Altean (sort of) and it's set in the war 10,000 years ago. Since it's set in an alien culture, there are some bits and pieces that won't be explained, but if you want an Altean glossary, I'll be happy to provide it! Most of it is just headcanons of mine.
> 
> Also, a warning: I am very, very unhappy with the direction Voltron is going in right now, which mean it's unlikely I will ever find the stamina to write anything for it after this fic is finished. This fic is distant enough from canon that it doesn't matter, but Voltron has, in general, made me anxious and displeased, and all the love I felt watching it in the first season has completely disappeared. That said, I definitely am going to try as hard as possible to finish this fic, because I am excited to tell this story. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!
> 
> Come hang on [Tumblr](http://materassassino.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PixieRings)!

It had come to this.

Allura sat beside her father, hands folded in her lap, back straight, unafraid of the people in front of her, but terrified of the situation that had gathered them all in the same room. Altea was peaceful, a planet of diplomats, negotiators and explorers, but even a peaceful planet might have someday needed to defend itself. Never had she dreamt that Altea would have been that planet, and that it would have occurred in her lifetime.

Before her, around the holographic wartable, sat the Generals of Altea: distantly stoic Tazaleen, arrogant Voz, the humble veteran Sovar, and, of course, Coran among them. King Alfor stood, knuckles braced on the table, face clouded, dark with the burden of war.

“I have gathered you all here,” he said, “because of Voltron.”

Had the crowd been any less disciplined, a murmur would have rippled through it. As it was, there were merely expressions of interest and surprise, and a few exchanged glances.

“We are in dire need of its might at this time,” Alfor continued. “Altea is at war with the Galra, something I would never have foreseen, and we are without our greatest defence and greatest weapon.

“I ask all of you to select five of those you believe most worthy from your forces, taking into account the characteristics of the Lions and the… previous Paladins, and train them. We have precious little time, but this time must be used wisely to choose new defenders of the universe.”

The interest was fully piqued this time. Tazaleen raised her hand.

“How will we know who will be chosen?”

Alfor gestured to Allura. “I have tied my daughter’s lifeforce to the Lions themselves. She and she alone can know who the Lions will choose as their new Paladins. You have a month. Go. The fate of Altea and our people depends on it!”

The generals moved to leave, some splitting into small groups to chatter amongst themselves. Allura deflated, letting out a weary sigh. If she reached out, she could feel them: five bright spots of burning quintessence, each different and individual, but also similar. It was a new and eerie sensation, sometimes overwhelming, and she was acutely aware of the responsibility that rested upon her shoulders.

“Dearest?”

She looked up, and tried for a smile in response to her father’s concerned expression. Alfor, as always saw through it immediately.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I am perfectly fine, Father,” she said. “It’s all right.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, and Allura had no idea what to say to dismiss his fears. He had enough worries creasing his brow as of late, worrying about her wasn’t a burden he needed to carry.

“I’m fine,” she reiterated, more firmly this time. Alfor sighed.

“Very well. I trust you.”

Allura nodded. Her father’s trust was something she took very seriously indeed.

* * *

Shiro wasn’t sure why he’d been summoned. He’d been an outcast since his return, held at, ironically, arm’s length, an eye kept on him even as his own were avoided. His military career had ground to a sickening halt, and although the King had believed him, he wasn’t certain anyone else did, not even his own general.

He’d been shocked when he’d received a message from _Lord Coran_ , of all people – in fact, he’d been certain there had been a mistake. He had no idea why the man closest to the King would want to see him, but he’d made his way there, despite his confusion.

And now he was in Coran’s office, mouth agape, unable to even articulate his disbelief. Lord Coran, for his part, looked mostly amused.

“Giant yagelvör got your tongue?” he asked. Shiro took a tick – or three – to compose himself before running a hand through his hair.

“S-sir, you must have made a mistake…”

Lord Coran shook his head. “Poppycock!” he said. “I most certainly _haven’t_.”

“You… you want me to lead your group of candidates for… for _Paladins_?” Shiro needed to sit down, but he realised how it would look if he did, so he kept his knees straight through sheer force of will. This went beyond a vote of confidence and into the realm of madness.

“I do!” Coran said brightly, as if happy Shiro had finally caught on. “I believe you are the right person for the job, my boy. Your record is outstanding, your academy marks the highest of your class across the board, you inspired all your previous subordinates on your test missions more than admirably, plus the official missions you _have_ run have always been successful above and beyond satisfaction… why wouldn’t I choose you?”

Shiro tasted bile at the back of his throat, and he clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. He could think of a reason, a very blatant, glaring reason. It was the same reason people had been giving him a wide berth, his friends had stepped away, his commanding officers stopped giving him missions.

“Sir, I’m sure there’s someone more suited for –”

Coran glared at him, and despite the man’s goofy reputation, it was surprisingly effective. Shiro quailed a little as that impressive ginger moustache bristled in his direction.

“I’m sure there _isn’t_ ,” he said with a finality that did not allow for even the most token of protests. “You’ll begin training tomorrow. Here is the list of candidates. Well… three of them. We’re, ah… we’re missing a candidate, actually.”

Shiro took the tablet from Coran and flicked through the list, a little surprised at the candidates he’d been shown. The only running theme was brilliance in a certain field and the fact they were all half-Alteans. Shiro looked up, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Have a weakness for underdogs, Sir?” he asked. Coran tugged at his moustache.

“I like giving chances where no one else will,” he replied. Shiro dropped his gaze back to the tablet to hide the stinging in his eyes.

“In that case… I think I know someone that would make an excellent addition to our group.”

* * *

Shiro spent the evening studying the files Coran had handed him. He’d already contacted his own candidate after Coran had given him permission, and he knew him almost as well as he knew himself. The other three were still a mystery, and thought the information had been useful, he knew perfectly well that the only real way to figure them out was to meet them.  
He made his way to the training room, pressing his palm to the lockpad to open in, and walked into a shouting match.

The three candidates chosen by Coran were on one side of the room, the large one in yellow hanging back with the small one in green, but the lanky one in blue was face to face with a familiar figure in red…

Of course.

Shiro sighed in frustration. It was always like this, even though he didn’t know who started it. It never really mattered: Kytiv was smart, but he was reckless and impulsive and never knew when to give up. He supposed that was the Galra side of him.

“Enough!” he barked, and immediately the youth in blue took a step back, turning to Shiro. His eyes widened and he straightened up, an oddly shimmering blush flaring up on his cheeks.

“S-sir!” he said, clearing his throat. Kytiv straightened as well, finally abandoning his combative stance now Shiro was present, though he never took his glowing yellow eyes off the blue-dressed youth for a moment.

“I’m going to clear this up immediately,” Shiro said. “I will _not_ tolerate in-fighting. We’re a _team_ , and we _work_ as a team. Got that?”

The small green one frowned. “But Sir, that one’s Galra!” They pointed at Kytiv, whose lip curled in a snarl.

“ _Half_ -Galra!” he spat. Shiro’s brow creased sternly as he called upon all the authority he could muster.

“Kytiv is here at my request, and with Lord Coran’s approval,” he said. “In formation!”

The four of them immediately fell into line, hands clasped behind their backs, and Shiro allowed himself a moment to study them and match faces to files.

The first was the one in blue, a tall, lanky youth with pointed, handsome features and shimmering, sclerae-less royal blue eyes. His tawny skin carried a peculiar sheen which Shiro put down to his half-Merfolk genetics. This, he remembered, was Lance, and according the file, he was a savvy enough diplomat and a natural talent at military strategy.

The next was the broad one in yellow, who looked incredibly worried, for whatever reason. His skin was darker than Lance’s, his eyes the same colour as Kytiv’s, two nubs of rock-like bone jutting from his jawline. He kept his gaze down rather than ahead. This was Hunk, someone who the finest engineers of Altea would easily come to envy, and half-Balmeran.

The third was the small, green-clad one, with short sandy hair, antennae poking out from beneath their fringe. Their eyes, locked on Shiro with an almost calculating curiosity, were amber and oddly square. They were shorter than most Olkari Shiro had encountered, but that must have been the Altean blood. Their name was Pidge, they were a technical prodigy with a penchant for illicit entry into data systems – a useful skill.

Finally, there was Kytiv, familiar as ever with his dark purple hair, purple skin, and belligerent glower.

Shiro stopped in front of them, hands on his hips. “You know why we’re here, I assume?” There were affirmative noises, and Shiro nodded in approval. “Good. This means less time spent on explanations and more time spent bonding as a team. We all know how Voltron works, and we all know the honour it is to be chosen as a pilot even in times of peace. Unfortunately, this isn’t a time of peace. We’re training to become Altea’s foremost line of defence: we can’t let our people down.”

He moved over to the table embedded in the wall, removing his cloak and moving back to the centre of the floor. He spread his weight, raising his arms, palms flat.

“Show me what you’ve got,” he ordered.

* * *

Kytiv was the only one who’d lasted any considerable amount of time. Paladins had to be skilled in combat, and though none of them were _bad_ , it was clear only Kytiv and to some extent Lance had had any sort of thorough training.

Hunk was lying spread-eagled on his back, panting at the ceiling, his face flushed red. Pidge rose and fell with his gasps, sprawled as they were across his dome-shaped belly. Lance had been knocked on his behind and hadn’t gotten up, breathing as heavily as his two friends. Kytiv still stood, but just barely, bent double, hands propped on his knees, sweat dripping onto the smooth floor of the training room.

“Not bad,” Shiro said. “Could use a lot of improvement, though.”

Pidge groaned, making Shiro chuckle.

“It’s fine for now. We have other things to practice as well,” he said. He went to the wall and retrieved four hydration pouches, distributing them to his team.

“Such as?” Lance asked.

“Telepathic meditation, the maze, flight simulation… lots of things.” Inside Shiro gave a long, deep sigh. They had so much to do, so many skills to develop, and almost no time to do it in. The Galra could attack at any moment, and every day without Voltron was a day Altea was vulnerable. Shiro repressed a shiver at the thought of… He shook his head, taking a deep breath. He had to stop thinking about it. “Being a Paladin isn’t just combat, either. It requires being beacons of hope to people. Not to mention three of you being part alien will bring some useful alliances when needed.”

“Cynical,” Pidge said. “I like that.”

“It’s not cynicism when you bring hope to others, Pidge,” Shiro said. “You’ve all lived part of the peace that Voltron brought, and now that peace is being destroyed. We have a chance to help, and we have to take it.”

There was silence, but from the looks on their faces, it wasn’t mocking. Even Kytiv looked awestruck by Shiro’s words, and it felt good to know he still had the knack for inspiring people and drawing their best out of them.

“However, this also means we all have to learn to work together,” Shiro continued. “The Paladins are, above all, friends as well as comrades. So… we’ll be living together for the next month!”

The expressions turned horrified, but Shiro stared them down until the squawks of protest died down under his glare.

“You’ll get used to each other eventually.”

* * *

“If I’m not allowed to have anything to do with them, why are we even throwing this banquet?” Allura asked waspishly. Hys finished plaiting her hair and sighed.

“If I knew, Princess, I’d answer,” she said. She intricately wove the plait with the other, smaller ones she’d done earlier with practiced ease and piled it upon Allura’s head around her usual large bun, fixing it in place with a tiara.

“It makes no sense whatsoever,” Allura continued, munching on a sweetstick mutinously. “If I’m supposed to be unbiased, surely I shouldn’t even know who they are?”

It wasn’t as if she _could_ be biased anyway, she mused. Only quintessence could reveal a Paladin, it wasn’t as if she herself was choosing. She was merely a catalyst for the Lions’ decision.

“I’m sure the king has his reasons,” Hys said reasonably, like she usually did, to Allura’s constant irritation. Hys was literally the only member of the royal household that somehow still managed to see her as the small child in bloomers running around covered in juniberry jam and mud. “There, all done!”

Even though Hys could sometimes be horrendously patronising, Allura had to admit that no one did her hair quite as beautifully.

“Thank you,” she said, and it was completely sincere. Even if she knew she couldn’t flirt, she could at least look her best and make heads turn, and that was something she knew how to do very easily indeed.

She met her father outside the ballroom, straightening her skirts and adjusting her bodice. He sighed.

“I hope you will behave yourself,” he said. Allura shot him a filthy glare.

“I always do,” she said. “Though I have to ask, why is this even an occasion when I’m supposed to be ‘unbiased’?”

Alfor frowned. “It’s a presentation of the leaders of each candidate group. Nothing more. And you can know who they are, you just can’t fraternise with them.”

Allura rolled her eyes. “ _Fraternise_ ,” she mumbled. “Is that what they’re calling it?”

“Enough,” he said sternly. He gestured and the doors opened, the traditional royal fanfare playing as they made their entrance into the hall.

Allura recognised most of the generals, and, of course, Coran, and even one or two of the people she presumed were the squad leaders. None of them really leapt out at her, however. She stood beside her father as each leader was introduced and greeted them in the usual fashion, and she filed away each face and matching name in the compartment of her memory that was designated to official things… until one stepped up and bowed, and she found herself staring.

He was tall, broad-shouldered and incredibly handsome. His hair would have been completely obsidian were it not for the thick shock of white that fell over his forehead. His markings were a rich purple, almost joined across the bridge of his nose by a long scar, and he was missing half an ear, but that changed nothing. She caught his beautifully-shaped eyes, and that earnt her the most intense gaze she’d ever felt upon her, and her markings flickered vividly before she could fight down her blush.

“Captain Shiro of the Grihavenix Archipelago,” said the announcer. That information went into its own compartment, and she made up her mind that she had to at least talk to him once that evening.

Which was harder to do than she’d hoped. Alfor, shrewd man who knew his daughter well that he was, kept distracting her with mindless conversation with mostly generals and some possible Heads of Voltron. The ones she met seemed arrogant and unpleasant… especially General Voz’s chosen candidate. She kissed her hand with a narrow-eyed, far-too-calculating gaze, and introduced herself as Hira.

“You are looking radiant tonight, Princess,” she said, flashing what she probably thought was a dashing smile. It took all of Allura’s willpower not to cringe.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, winching on a polite smile. As with most arrogant people, the conversation quickly left her appearance and wandered off into the territory of Hira’s own accomplishments: successful missions, the long and proud history of her family, other boring details Allura would never remember. She didn’t even bother to listen. Instead, she surreptitiously searched the room with his gaze, looking for that one captain, Shiro.

She found him, in a corner, alone, which she found strange: a man that handsome would not be alone a party like this, usually. Her confusion must have shown on her face.

“Oh, are you looking at _Shiro_ , Princess?” Hira asked. She blinked, wary of the emphasis she’d placed upon Shiro’s name.

“Why yes,” she admitted. “His solitude caught my attention.”

Hira chuckled, and there was a sneer in it Allura didn’t like at all. “I am unsurprised. In fact, it is startling he was even chosen as a candidate.”

“Why?” Allura asked coldly. “He is a captain as much as anyone else here.”

“Well, there’s the whole _issue_ with his time in Galra captivity…” Hira said, completely ignoring the frost in Allura’s tone. “I wouldn’t trust him with anything, now. He came back with barely any memories and a mechanical arm that I wouldn’t allow within ten feet of me. If you ask me, whoever chose him as candidate for Black Paladin is a fool!”

“Lord Coran chose him,” Allura said, and the sheer ice she packed into those words couldn’t be ignored anymore. Hira flushed, stammering something about being certain Coran had his reasons, but as far as Allura was concerned, the conversation was over.

Defiantly, ignoring her father trying to catch her gaze, she strode over to Shiro, pausing only to collect two flutes of pink nunvill.

“I saw you needed another drink,” she said. He looked up, noticed his glass was empty, and then noticed who was offering. He immediately stood to attention, his marks glowing vivid purple.

“Oh, f-forgive me, Princess. I was…”

“Deep in thought, it seemed,” she said, holding out the glass. He reached for it with his right, hesitated, then dropped it in favour of his left.

“ _Distracted_ is probably a better definition,” he said with a short chuckle, low and pleasant and Allura liked the sound of it immensely. Shiro’s voice, as well, was pleasant, rough but not gravelly or fierce. He sounded soft, and Allura wondered what he would sound like saying her name, no title in the way.

“I didn’t like to see someone standing all by themselves,” she said, taking a sip of her drink and enjoying both the juniberry sweetness and the harder alcoholic kick. Shiro dropped his gaze from hers.

“Coran talked to me earlier, it’s fine, Princess,” he said. “I don’t need babysitting, my own company is good enough.”

“Nonsense!” she said. “A poor host I’d be if I let someone go unentertained!” She glanced at the open balcony doors not too far from them. “Allow me to invite you outside. It’s terribly noisy in here.”

Shiro hesitated, trying, she could see, to bite back a smile. “I thought you weren’t really supposed to talk to us.”

“I’m allowed to _talk_ ,” she said. She took him by the wrist and led him outside into the cool night air, the three moons making their leisurely way across the sky. Laid out beneath them were the lights of Yerseris, and beyond that, the Woven Ocean, spread out to the horizon. Allura leant on the railing, and to her surprise, Shiro leant next to her.

“I always like Yerseris,” Allura said wistfully. “The other capitals have their charms but the Dancers reflected on the ocean like this…”

“You’ve never been to Grihavenix, I take it?” Shiro asked. Allura sighed.

“Once, but I didn’t get to see much of it. It was mostly endless social engagements.”

“You’d love the Moon Pools of Sahaatori, then,” Shiro said. “Seven of them, and they all reflect the Dancers in different colours.”

“That sounds beautiful.” Allura lowered her lashes, peering at Shiro from beneath them. “Perhaps you could show me.”

Shiro chuckled. “I’m sure His Majesty wouldn’t approve in a thousand decaphoebs, Princess,” he said, shaking his head. Allura joined in with his laughter.

“Well, that’s one more reason to do so,” she said with a wink, and Shiro stifled his laughter then, and she saw his markings glow bright for a moment before he tamed them. There was silence between them then, strangely pleasant, but Allura didn’t want it.

“So… Coran’s candidate, hm?”

Shiro cleared his throat and took a sip of his nunvill. “It’s an honour I would never have dreamt of,” he admitted. “I owe Lord Coran a great deal.”

“We all do,” Allura murmured, feeling the sincerity of her words well up inside her. “He is important to a lot of people.” _Not least of all my father and I_. She sighed out her feelings and then smiled again. “You should tell me more about you, though, Shiro.”

Shiro chuckled, and Allura counted it as a notch on her victory board whenever he did – his laugh was to die for, rich like Tamarlanian birdhoney. “What can I say that would be of interest to a princess?”

 _Everything_ , Allura’s mind supplied, and it surprised her. She didn’t say it out loud, however.

“Tell me more about Grihavenix,” she said, leaning closer, and when Shiro didn’t put distance between them, but merely began to speak, she hid her pleased smile behind the knuckles of the hand she propped her chin on.

* * *

Alfor was as finely-tuned to his daughter’s presence as he once was to the Lions of Voltron. She disappeared halfway through the party, and of course he feared the worst.

Well, not the _worst_ , but one of the greatest inconveniences possible for their current endeavour. He searched for her – surreptitiously, of course – and couldn’t find her. In fact, he didn’t find her for the remainder of the party, which made him worry even more. He hated not trusting her, but she had a prior record of wandering off with the first person who caught her eye, and it had been happening since childhood. The reason for the wandering had changed, but the modus operandi had not.

He saw her emerge from the drapes covering the balcony, with… Captain Shiro. Alfor knew him. He’d seen Coran study his file, and had wondered about the choice. He scowled as he watched Allura say goodbye, the sort of lovesick grin on her face that never predicted anything good.

“Alfor, I wouldn’t-”

Alfor easily ignored Coran’s voice. He strode over, grateful for the now half-empty room, even though an Allura absent for farewells was embarrassing.

“Allura!”

Allura startled slightly, and turned with her own matching scowl. “What?” she asked, her tone quite cold indeed.

“We discussed this!” he hissed angrily. Allura folded her arms.

“No, _you_ ordered me not to do anything!” she retorted.

“Perhaps it was because I can’t trust you to do anything responsible!” Alfor snapped, and Allura gasped. Her scowl turned to hurt, a look Alfor never wanted to see on his daughter’s face.

Allura was not the type to run away crying. Instead, she turned and marched off, head held high, back rigid. Alfor watched her go with a deep sigh, before his gaze fell on Coran. The other man shook his head in disappointment, and that hurt almost as much as Allura’s pain.

In their shared chamber, there was silence as Coran readied himself for bed. Alfor followed suit, folding his tunic and leggings neatly before donning his nightclothes. The silence between them wasn’t tense, but it still felt heavy, and Alfor knew it was wasn’t his place to break it. He uttered an inaudible sigh of relief when Coran finally spoke.

“You need to stop worrying so much, Alfor,” he said. “Allura isn’t the little girl you see in your mind anymore. She’s a grown woman, she makes her own decisions.”

Alfor sighed. “I try to only guide her, but she drifts so easily…”

“Perhaps you should let her drift, then,” Coran said, raising an eyebrow. Alfor’s mouth tightened, which made Coran fold his arms and sigh. “She has to make her own mistakes, Alfor. Although, personally, I don’t see how this could be a mistake.”

“Affection might cloud her judgement and taint her decisions,” Alfor said sternly. He only half-believed it himself, and he was well-aware of the irony (and probable hypocrisy) in himself talking about rashness and clouded judgement.

“The Lions choose their Paladins, and you know it,” Coran replied just as sternly. “She is merely a conduit.”

Alfor looked away. Even though Coran was right, there was something Alfor always had to consider, for both himself and Allura, and that was image. What could be more public than the sovereign and crown princess of an entire planet? The science behind the Lions choosing their Paladins might have been solid, but Altea was composed of eighteen billion different people with eighteen billion different opinions. He could never satisfy everybody.

Alfor felt the bed sink beside him and turned back to Coran.

“Sometimes I feel like you are a better father to her than me,” he said, and Coran’s eyes widened.

“Don’t say that, Alfor!” He reached up and placed his hand on Alfor’s face, and Alfor pressed it to him, eyes closing. Coran’s touch was familiar and comforting, the roughness and minute scars from years of tinkering. “You’re a good father… and I’m not her father at all.”

“You practically are,” Alfor protested. “You’ve been there since the beginning, Coran. You are her _charandahl_!”

“Not _formally_ …” Coran muttered, but Alfor scoffed, taking Coran’s other hand.

“ _Sheonath_ , you have always been there for her. Even more so since Denebola…” His voice faltered, and Coran squeezed his hand gently. “What I mean is, you have been as much a parent as we ever were or have been. I would not value your input so highly were that not the case.”

Coran’s moustache twitched. “At least that means you’ll listen to me when it comes to Allura.” He dropped his hand from Alfor’s cheek and took the other’s. “She’s free to make her own choices. And hey, at least it’s not Hira.”

Alfor’s face twisted. “She was insufferable.”

“Just like Voz himself,” Coran said tartly, and Alfor laughed. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, and the flow of quintessence between their joined hands was as soft and comforting and perfect as it ever was.

* * *

Allura managed to make it almost to her room before giving in to the need to stomp like a petulant child, if only to rid herself of some of the horrid feelings brewing. Once she was behind the closed door of her room, she grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, emptying her frustration into the soft fibres.

“Infuriating man!” she snarled, throwing the pillow back on the bed, following it with herself. The ceiling was as boring as ever, but at least it offered an anchor.

A part of her understood her father’s reservations, the regal, well-educated part. But there was a part inside her, louder and less easy to ignore, that demanded she do what she felt, not what she thought. And Shiro was something it very much wanted to do.

She brought her hands to her chest, biting her lip. It wasn’t just that though, was it? Shiro was charming without even trying, and funny in a dry way that greatly appealed to her. She chuckled to herself. She’d never experienced this sort of bubble in her chest, like her heart was made of sunshine, and it felt wonderful if also exceedingly painful.

She closed her eyes. She wanted to talk to him again and tomorrow, she vowed, she would, her father’s admonishments be damned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: this was planned out and written before the reveal about Shiro. However, I'm choosing to base my Shiro on the first statements of the EPs and writers, which were that any interpretation of Shiro is valid as long as his attraction to men is respected, which is something I've always thought was canon since June 2016 anyway. Shiro is bisexual in all of my fics except this one where, as an Altean, he is pansexual like everyone on the planet who isn't asexual. 
> 
> I realise the Altean gobbledegook is increasing exponentially chapter by chapter, so if you want a glossary I will put it on Tumblr and link to it in the notes of the next chapter.

Shiro wasn’t usually the kind of person that lay in bed after waking up and stared at the ceiling. Well… he hadn’t been before… His right fist tightened in the sheets. Before that, he’d been a morning person from habit; now, he tended to be a morning person due to the fact he hadn’t slept the night before.

To his surprise, he’d slept soundly and without nightmares that night, and he had a feeling he knew why.

He’d seen Princess Allura plenty of times before. She was always a presence at military gatherings, lighting up the room with her laughter, and though Shiro had often been at these functions, he’d never spoken to her. He’d always thought her beautiful – the whole planet did, because she _was_ – but now… he’d talked himself hoarse the night before. She’d listened to him as if she’d found every single word of his riveting, and he’d listened back, fascinated. He’d been able to watch her, study her movements and the nuances of her expressions without hindrance. He’d been able to listen to her voice and find out things about her, things he had an inkling not many people knew. He grinned up at the ceiling, feeling the familiar swoop in the pit of his stomach that heralded a giddiness he hadn’t felt in forever.

When he closed his eyes, instead of darkness and eyes that burned yellow, half-remembered, he saw the smile he’d seen last night, heard her light, pretty laugh and saw her crystalline eyes. It was a welcome respite.

 _Too bad you’ll likely never see her again_ , his brain muttered gloomily. He let out a long sigh. That much was true: one freak incident at a gala did not the basis for a relationship make, despite the fact he’d like it. Not to mention there was the whole issue with the Lions, and Shiro knew as much as anyone else that she had to stay away from everyone involved, for propriety’s sake. An illicit tryst was the last thing the Princess needed right now, and why should she even be interested in him, anyway? He was a broken soldier, shattered and pieced back together by dark things, and he was grateful for the little bit of sympathy she’d shown.

He sat up, lips tightened, and told himself not to dwell on her, as unobtainable as she was. The Princess could and _would_ do better.

He washed and dressed perfunctorily, focusing on his actions to banish the thought of her from his mind, and as a result left his room looking sourer than he intended.

He found the rest of the group in the dining area: Lance, Hunk and Pidge sat at the table, chatting amicably; Kytiv, on the other hand, leant broodily against the countertop, nursing a cup and very pointedly looking at the floor. They all looked up and their expressions became slightly more cheerful when he appeared.

“Hey, Shiro!”

“Good morning!”

“I made breakfast!” Was Hunk’s greeting, and, sure enough, when Shiro looked at the counter there was a big pan of lali oats and lumiberries, and a jug of sarvac. It was the sarvac Shiro went for first, pouring himself a cup and enjoying the bittersweet blackness of it.

“You look surprisingly well-rested,” Kytiv remarked, eyeing him suspiciously. Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“Meaning..?”

“You look like you’ve actually slept,” Kytiv said dryly. “A full night’s sleep.”

“Insomnia’s evil,” Pidge said. They were already tinkering with their holoscreens. Lance rolled his eyes.

“ _You’re_ not an insomniac,” he said in disgust. “You just never go to sleep at a decent hour and then spend the next day crabby because you haven’t slept enough.”

Hunk sniggered, holding his arm out to block Pidge from lunging at Lance. From what Shiro could see of their dynamic, they were already a team of some sort. If Lance had been training for off-planet flight, it was likely Hunk and Pidge were part of that team. It also demonstrated the rift between the rest of the team and Kytiv: the entire room was an insurmountable barrier between them. Furthermore, Kytiv had only spoken to Shiro when he’d entered, but never to the other three. There was a lot to work on here.

“How did the do go last night, anyway?” Lance asked. It was entirely the wrong question, because thinking of the function made him think of Princess Allura, and thinking of Princess Allura just made his heart beat faster and his markings burn for a moment.

All four of them were staring. The silence lasted what felt like a frightening eternity, but then a wicked grin spread over Lance’s face.

“You _met someone_!” he crowed, pointing at Shiro. Shiro glanced at Kytiv for help, but to his horror Kytiv was wearing a smirk not too dissimilar in nature to Lance’s.

“I’m not surprised,” he said, with the slow, steady tone of someone who is about to ruin someone else’s life, “he’s always been a romancer. People swooning left and right.”

Lance turned to him eagerly. “ _Really_?” he asked, elongating the word obnoxiously. Hunk and Pidge leant closer as well. Kytiv’s smirk never wavered.

“Oh yeah, at the academy, on missions, everyone falling for him,” he said breezily. Shiro buried his face in his hands. “Someone broken-hearted in every solar system!”

“Unsurprising,” Hunk mused. “I mean… specimen.” He gestured at Shiro matter-of-factly. Lance looked tickled pink.

“So, who were they last night?” he asked. “A dashing general? A swooning servant? Another captain?”

Shiro should have lied. He should have said someone random, or even told them nothing happened because nothing _did_ happen. But his mouth was running on its own right now, and he blurted, “Princess Allura,” before he could clap a hand over his mouth. The tips of his ears were on fire.

The table erupted like the mess hall of a garrison when a plate broke. Lance was cackling, Hunk and Pidge were laughing, and Kytiv was applauding him with an impressed look Shiro felt was largely sarcasm.

“Look, nothing _happened_!” Shiro protested, quickly. “We just talked, ok?” They’d talked a lot. More than probably normal. He banished those thoughts violently. “We just talked. Besides, why would she…” He tapered off, his left hand subconsciously rising to hold his right arm, closing himself in. The table went quiet.

“From what I know of the Princess,” Pidge said casually, “she has nothing if not impeccable taste, you know.”

Shiro opened his mouth to protest, when a call alert came through. They all exchanged looks of puzzlement, and Shiro nodded at Pidge to bring up the call. It was probably Coran.

When the caller finally appeared on the larger holoscreen, it was most definitely _not_ Coran.  
Shiro stared as the always-lovely face of Princess Allura appeared, smiling at hi- _them_.

 _“Good morning, Shiro,”_ she said, voice slightly distorted by the comms, but still sweet. He cleared his throat and straightened up.

“Good morning, Princess. To what do we owe this honour?”

She was looking past him now, at the table. _“Oh, is this your team of candidates? They all look admirable.”_ She waved, and they automatically waved back, all with varying degrees of shock on their faces. _“Shiro, forgive me, but could I speak to you on a more private link?”_

“Yes,” he squeaked. He switched the link to his personal room one and then left quickly. He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen in the dining hall once he’d gone, but as soon as he’d set foot out the door, he heard the noise start. He pressed his lips together and ignored it. At least they were bonding.

Instead, he entered his room and pulled up the holoscreen again, and there was Allura, smiling softly, even looking a little shy. She tucked her hair back and bit her lip. It was adorable, and Shiro felt his heart squeeze.

“Is… is there something I can help you with, Princess?” he asked.

 _“Nothing serious,”_ she admitted sheepishly, and Shiro had a feeling that not many people had seen this side of her before. _“I was wondering if… if you were free this evening?”_

Shiro’s jaw went slack, his arms falling to his sides. “I, uh… w-why?”

Allura raised an eyebrow. _“Why do you think?”_

Shiro was sure his markings could be used as a landing beacon at this point, his ears about to melt off his head. “I, um, well… Y-yes. Yes, I’m free.”

Allura clapped her hands in delight. _“Excellent! Unfortunately, any meeting we have is going to have to be rather… clandestine. Do you know where Tiamal Cove is?”_

He nodded. In reality he didn’t but it was nothing he couldn’t find out. She beamed. _“Wonderful! I shall meet you there at four vargas past alignment! You… you_ will _be there, yes?”_

She was undoubtedly a princess used to getting her way, but the way she’d said that, so hopefully, sounded so sincere all Shiro could do was confirm. She smiled again, and Shiro knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was a terrible idea.

But then, wasn’t nearly everything he did a terrible idea?

* * *

Like allowing Coran to set their missions, it seemed.

He was possibly the most powerful person on the entire planet after the King himself and, of course, the Princess. He had King Alfor’s trust and his faith, and Shiro knew he should offer Coran the same. But he had to question the King’s judgement when the man was standing next to a dangerously sheer cliff, beaming like they were going on a Solanula picnic.

“Good morning, future Paladins!” he said cheerfully. The reply he got was suspicious silence. “Come now, don’t be like that! There is method to my madness!”

Shiro eyed the cliff warily. The reactions of his team were similar, though Hunk’s look of abject fear was slightly worrying. “I guess you should tell us about it, then.”

“Well, you see… the Paladins of Voltron embody a great many virtues,” Coran said, tugging on his moustache. “Compassion, kindness, wisdom, skill, loyalty, resourcefulness… and bravery, of course.”

“B-b-bravery?” Hunk squeaked. He had his hands clasped at his chin, his bottom lip wobbling.

“Of course!” Coran said. “How else will you defend the universe from the horrors that would befall it?”

Hunk whimpered. Coran ignored him.

“This, as you may know, is the Cliff of Asunda… atop which grow the absolutely exquisite vichabu berry bushes. A rare delicacy, and one that just so happens to be in season right now.” He cleared his throat. “And I just so happen to have royal permission to access this protected site.”

Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep steadying breath. Coran wanted them to climb a cliff. Of all the things, he wanted this.

“You must, of course, make it to the top individually,” he continued, and Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. “And bring me back a bag of vichabu berries.” He held up a blue bag, not too large, thank goodness. “And all of them must be intact and unspoiled. And Shiro… I’d rather you sat this one out, as captain.”

“Shouldn’t I do what my team does?” Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow. Coran shook his head.

“Too easy.” He walked past the other four, beckoning Shiro after him, to a short distance away. “You should start soon!” he called back, chuckling as if this were simply some avuncular merriment.

Shiro didn’t envy them.

* * *

“So is this, like… a competition?” Lance asked, frowning up at the cliff face with his slender arms folded across his chest. Pidge stepped forward, scratching at the rock and making a face.

“This is incredibly unsafe,” they said.

“We’re supposed to be Paladins.” Everyone turned to Kytiv, surprised at hearing his voice without Shiro present. “Everything we do is going to be unsafe. We’re at war.”

Lance’s lip curled in a sneer. “Yeah, you’d know a lot about war, wouldn’t you?”

Kytiv’s yellow eyes narrowed, his own lip turning up to bare sharp teeth. “What do you mean by that, fishface?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Lance said haughtily. Pidge simply rolled their eyes and began fishing around in their pack, pulling out bits and pieces of scavenged hardware.

Hunk watched all this play out, and then looked back at the cliff. When he’d first set eyes on it, he’d been terrified. Truth be told, he had no idea why he’d been chosen as a candidate for Paladin, especially by Coran, of all people, except for the fact that the man was clearly more than a little mocchimo cream short of a Denebola pudding. But then he’d mentioned the vichabu berries.

 _Vichabu berries_. Hunk had only heard of them in food reviews, he’d only seen them on holoshows about the most exclusive foods on Altea. Their rarity was legendary, and apparently so was their taste: one critic had likened them to eating sunlight dancing on the water, another to the flavour of riding a horse across a field of firien flowers. They were the one ingredient Hunk had always wanted to use in anything.

He hated heights. Personally, he thought Coran was entirely wrong in believing he was some sort of prime candidate for Yellow Paladin. But vichabu berries were more important than life or limb. And he was going to get them. The question was, of course… how? While he was strong, his stamina wasn’t the greatest, and it certainly wasn’t enough to get him up the cliff, which Kytiv was already climbing (with Lance, stupidly, following suit).

“Mr Lord Coran, sir?”

Coran stopped talking to Shiro and turned to him, a look of benign curiosity on his face. “Yes, Hunk?”

“Are we allowed to use _any_ means to get up the cliff?”

“Certainly, my lad!”

A grin spread across Hunk’s face, and he turned to Coran’s vehicle, rubbing his hands together. “Awesome.”

Sometimes, Hunk wondered whether there was tech somewhere that would actually present a challenge to him one day. As it stood, it was almost laughably easy to unfurl his toolkit and go to town on Coran’s speeder and come out less than ten ticks later with two boosters, miscellaneous useful pieces and the mental blueprint for a jetpack.

Across the way, Pidge was adding the finishing touches to a small drone they’d constructed, piloted by a telepathy headset. Hunk’s eyebrows knitted in determination. He had to beat everyone.

He wriggled out of his breastplate and removed the inner straps. With his portable soldering iron, he quickly cobbled together a backplate. Using the speeder’s steering sticks, he fashioned rudimentary thrust capacitators, threading the wires through scavenged tubing to the main boosters, which he then soldered to the backplate. The straps of his armour completed the contraption. Yes, it was hastily cobbled together, but the important thing was that it worked. And he knew it worked – everything he made did.

He strapped on the jetpack and snatched one of the blue bags Coran had given them. Staring up at the cliff, he mentally calculated the perfect angle for fastest arrival. There was no time for a test flight, only for the maiden voyage. He took a deep breath, flexed his fingers on the steering sticks and pressed the buttons.

Air whipped through Hunk’s bangs as he zoomed upwards, almost ridiculously fast. In any other situation, he would have hated it, but as the cliff sped past him and its summit came ever closer, he found himself kind of enjoying it. Kind of. If he didn’t think about it too much. He overtook Kytiv and Lance, and then Pidge’s drone, and soon the bushes themselves were in sight, wild tangles laden with soft yellow berries, like miniature golden nuggets. He slowed the thrusters, setting them to hover, and landed with an unfamiliar daintiness on top of the cliff. It was a thin strip of land, the other side a gaping, rocky chasm. A mountain goat bleated at him, the sound reverberating up and down the crack in the ground, bouncing off the walls until it sounded like there were a thousand of them.

Hunk turned away. The vichabu berries were more important. And oh, they were as glorious as Hunk as dreamt they would be: tiny, misshapen parcels of divine flavour and nutrients, glinting in the sun like little jewels. He bit his lip and reached out his hand, plucking one from the bush with a reverence he’d never used for anything else in his life. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he placed it into the bag. And then he continued picking.

They didn’t weigh much, of course, but to Hunk they felt like the heaviest and most precious cargo he’d ever bear. Once the bag was full, he drew the string and looped it on his belt, nodded in satisfaction. Time to head back.

As he took off again, Pidge’s drone appeared, the bag dangling from it and a small arm appearing from its inside. He ignored it and set himself to hover, gently lowering himself down the cliff. He made sure not to look down.

A shout made him look, and his blood ran cold. Not because of the height, but because of the flash of blue in the air below him.

It was as if it was in slow motion, time solidifying for a tense, terrible moment: he could see all of Lance’s body, the terrified look on his face, his arms outstretched, entering a freefall he would never survive. And even worse was the red following him, reaching for his arm, leaving the safety of the cliff face behind in a futile attempt at rescue.

Hunk didn’t stop to think. Kicking the boosters into full, he pointed himself downwards, headfirst, fast as he could, diving right for them. When he reached them, he let go of the steering sticks, the boosters cutting out almost instantly. He grabbed them, Lance in one arm and Kytiv in the other, hugging them to him, and he could already feel gravity pulling on him mockingly.

“Hold on!” he yelled, and thank the Ancients they did, allowing Hunk to grab the steering and push the boosters back to full throttle, jerking them to a halt for a split second. They were too heavy all together for the jetpack to stop, but their descent was slowed enough for the danger to pass.

And the bottom fell out of his stomach as he noticed the small blue bag, still filled with berries, heading inexorably towards the unforgiving ground and its inevitable doom. He screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t watch.

The three of them reached the ground a few ticks later, Shiro and Coran helping Kytiv and Lance to the ground, Lance trembling like a leaf. Hunk heaved the jetpack off his shoulders and fell backwards, letting out a long, trembling groan.

“Hunk?” Lance’s voice was trembling as much as he was. Hunk raised his head slightly to look at him. There were tears in Lance’s eyes, the waterpack in his hands shaking violently enough that water trickled over his fingers.

“T-thank you,” he croaked, and Hunk smiled at him. Kytiv met his eyes, and nodded his thanks, hunched over his own waterpack and drawing in deep breaths. Hunk responded with a thumbs-up.

“I got the berries!”

Everyone looked over to a triumphant Pidge, who was holding a bag and looking decidedly smug.

* * *

Shiro ran a hand through his hair. Those few seconds – though it had felt like hours – had shaken him to the core, and he was still trying to get his heart to slow down when Pidge held out their bag for inspection. He exchanged a look with Coran, wincing slightly.

“I don’t think it’s good timing for that right now, Pidge,” he said gently. Pidge frowned.

“I completed the mission. No one else did. Surely I won?”

Coran stood up, hands behind his back, looking decidedly sterner than Shiro had ever personally seen him. “Your teammates nearly lost their lives,” he said. “Surely that is more important?”

“My berries are to do with the mission,” Pidge said, holding out the bag for Coran. With a clipped sigh, he took it and opened it.

“This is juice, not berries,” he said. Pidge gasped.

“What?!” They grabbed the bag back and groaned. “Great. I miscalculated the arm strength calibration.” Their drone whirred innocently beside them.

“I think it’s time to head back,” Shiro said, and to his relief, everyone, even a pouting Pidge, agreed.

Shiro oversaw everyone piling into the cruiser, until Coran cleared his throat. He beckoned Shiro away again, and pulled something out of a capsule, handing it to Shiro.

It was a blue bag, not too heavy, but certainly full.

“For Hunk,” Coran said with a wink.

* * *

“No afternoon training today,” Shiro said. “I think you’ve all been through enough.”

Everyone else breathed a sigh of relief – except Kytiv, of course – and began to amble away to do whatever they needed to do, but Shiro placed a hand on Hunk’s shoulder before he could leave.

“A word?”

Hunk’s expression of mild terror was kind of amusing, really, but he led the young man out to the veranda of their barracks, gesturing for him to sit down. Hunk did, and he looked very stiff, hands clasped tightly on his knees like he was visiting the headmaster’s office.

“You did amazingly, today,” Shiro said, and Hunk seemed shocked.

“I didn’t get the berries,” he said. Shiro shook his head.

“The berries don’t matter.”

“With all due respect, Sir, they were _vichabu berries_.”

Shiro chuckled at that. “Call me a heretic, but that’s not as important as what you did. You saved two lives today.”

Hunk blinked. “I… I guess I did, didn’t I?” He looked slightly sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck even as he grinned at himself.

“You did. And that was an incredibly selfless and courageous act. I’ve been on front lines with soldiers who haven’t been that brave.” Shiro closed his eyes briefly, forcing away the memories, their clattering noise and horrible vividness. He forced himself back to the present, and to Hunk.

“Sir, is… is everything ok?” Hunk looked like he barely believed he’d actually had the guts to ask. Shiro smiled slightly.

“As ok as it can be,” he said, not dodging, but not answering either. “Are _you_ all right?”

“Me?”

“Hunk… I can laud you for what you did today, but it must have been terrifying, and we shouldn’t ignore that.”

Hunk twisted his fingers together nervously. “Yeah, but… if we do become Paladins, we’re going to be in danger all the time. Our feelings about it won’t really matter, will they?”

“We won’t be fighting all the time. No one can do that. I’m still always afraid when it comes to battle.”

Hunk’s head snapped up in surprise. It was clear he hadn’t expected such an answer, not from Shiro. He placed a hand on the youth’s shoulder, making sure it was his left, flesh and blood.

“Fear keeps us safe. We can’t be brave without fear. And I know you’ll always put the well-being of others before your own. That’s incredibly brave, and the scariest thing I know of.”

For the first time in the entire conversation, a smile flittered across Hunk’s lips, small and worried, but still there.

“I know you’re questioning why you were chosen. We all are.” _Especially me,_ Shiro didn’t add. “But we’re going to do the best we can, because our planet, and our people, need us. Without us, there is no hope.”

Hunk drew in a deep breath, letting it out on a long, wavering sigh. “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

“I wouldn’t ask anything more,” Shiro said with a smile. “Oh, and I have this for you.”

He pulled out a blue bag, and held it out, gently laying it in the palm Hunk subconsciously held out for it. Hunk stared at it in shock.

“Sir, are these-?”

Shiro shrugged. “You could open it and see.”

Hunk did, and then he gasped, pulling out one of the vichabu berries as if it were a bone of the Ancients itself.

“Sir, I don’t… I didn’t earn these!” he protested, shaking his head vehemently. Shiro waved a hand.

“I think you did. You did something _incredible_ today,” he said, standing up. “It was an act worthy of a Paladin.”

* * *

Allura had taken far longer than was probably necessary to get ready. She attempted to find an outfit that didn’t entirely scream “make way for the Princess of Altea”, borrowed a speeder from the castle and finally made it to the cove. And for once, she was the early one.

She settled on a rock close to where the surf caressed the shore, and watched the final scraps of light disappear as the second sun dipped beneath the horizon. Above her, one of the orbital docking bays slowly cruised, spinning lazily with the planet’s own rotation. Seabirds and small seadrakes chittered around on the sand, finding a last evening meal. It was incredibly peaceful, and it was almost impossible to reconcile this peacefulness with the idea that beyond the atmosphere, a war was raging. And not just any war, but one her people could lose. It made her wonder at herself, at how frivolous she was being, courting someone even as her people were dying. She hunched in on herself, staring at the waves lapping the shore. She should go home and forget about all of this and start acting in a manner befitting a princess whose people’s existence was on the line.

She saw him appear out of the corner of her eye, and the closer he came, the more she could feel her burden lighten just by his presence. And she realised how much she wanted this brief, fleeting moment of selfishness where she could just be Allura. How much she needed it. He waved sheepishly.

“Am I late?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted. “I don’t mind.”

“We weren’t even running late today,” he admitted. “I just sort of got caught up in things.”

Allura beamed. “Training?”

“No, more like… team bonding. But training today was… an experience.”

For a moment, Allura looked at him again. The light of the dying sunset set him ablaze in deep oranges and pinks, softening the strength of his features. He started talking about his team, about how two of them had nearly died but Hunk had saved them, and how proud he was of Hunk’s courage, and Allura listened. With anyone else, her listening might have been polite, but with Shiro, she found herself intent, taking in every word.

“So, uh…” His voice faltered as he seemed to notice he’d been doing all the talking. “H-how was your day?”

“Boring, compared to yours,” she said with a sigh. “Training with the gladiator bots isn’t nearly as interesting.”

She almost felt embarrassed. She’d done little today except go over those trade agreements her father delegated and organise a couple of official parties for later on in the year. She’d barely glanced at the war table, and to her shock, she found herself telling him all of this, her embarrassment taking a moment to catch up to her tongue.

“Those are important things too,” Shiro said. Allura looked up.

“I know,” she said. “But… you are training to be a Paladin of Voltron. You’ll be vital to the continued existence of our entire race. That’s so important.”

“Only in a time of war,” he said. “Trade agreements and parties are for peacetime, and I’d much rather we had more of those.”

Allura flushed, both at the way he smiled, softly and encouragingly, with such sincerity her heart thudded madly, and his words. He knew how to inspire. She tucked her hair back behind her ear and smiled tentatively.

“Thank you,” she said.

She noticed they were closer now. She was close enough to see the flecks of black in his stormy-grey eyes. His dark pupils were so unusual, so enthralling. She was close enough to feel the soft brush of his breath on her cheek, see the pink of his tongue as he licked his lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured, voice slightly rough, but he made no effort to move away.

“I know,” she replied, closing the distance between them.

Allura had kissed plenty of people before, across a multitude of systems. Some kissed well, some had little skill, and others didn’t even know what kissing was, but none of them had ever kissed her like Shiro did. One hand sank into her hair, the other slid around her waist, holding her softly but firmly against him. Her own arms wound around his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper into it, into her arms and the kiss itself. It was a perfect give and take, which surprised her, how he immediately gained and surrendered the lead of the kiss, lips taking hers just how she wanted. She tasted him, flicked her tongue across his teeth, met his own, deepening the kiss further.

Shiro pulled back first, slightly breathless, his nose brushing hers.

“That was…”

She giggled. She felt strange, like she were made of stars, her nerves twinkling. “You kiss very satisfactorily, Captain,” she said. He chuckled, and the sound made the twinkling ten times stronger.

“I’m glad to please you, Princess.”

She had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from saying something far too cheeky. Instead, she leant her shoulder against him, watching the First Dancer’s rise reflected on the ocean in front of them. She felt him stiffen, but then relax, and she was glad of it.

“Oh, uh… I have something for you…” he mumbled, and she raised her head from its resting place, curious. He reached into a pocket and drew out a holding bag, which expanded to its true size, and from it he withdrew four small, oddly-shaped golden berries.

“Vichabu berries!” she exclaimed. “You mentioned Coran set you training that involved them!” She paused, holding one between thumb and forefinger, a wicked smile spreading across her face. “You said they were Hunk’s.”

“He won’t miss a few,” Shiro said. “I know it’s bad, but there were loads in the bag and honestly… I’ve never had them before.”

“Really?” Allura asked in surprise. Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not nobility or royalty, Princess,” he said drolly, and she blushed slightly.

“Oh, yes… of course.” She cleared her throat. “Well then, you should have them all.” She replaced the berry in the palm of his hand with an insistent nod.

“I wanted to share…”

“I can have all the vichabu berries I want, you have them.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes, and she stifled a giggle. “Fine.” He popped one into his mouth and bit down.

His expression was priceless: the wide eyes, the slackening jaw, the slight gasp.

“They’re… they’re _incredible_ ,” he murmured, and Allura laughed again. “I always thought it was all hype but it’s _not_.”

“I’ve had them enough that the novelty has worn off,” she said matter-of-factly. What wouldn’t she give to be able to taste vichabu berries for the first time again.

“Allura?”

She turned to him, curious, but then his lips met hers again, then his tongue, and there it was, the strong, exquisite flavour of vichabu juice, sweet and fresh and smooth and so much better with a hint of Shiro behind it. Her eyelids fluttered when he pulled back, and she smiled.

“I was not expecting that,” she said. He shrugged, grinning, and Allura found herself enamoured with that grin. It was youthful and slightly roguish, playful and carefree, and it transformed him entirely, his burden gone for a beautiful, sun-bright moment.

“Surprises are fun,” he said. Allura giggled.

“I wouldn’t mind if you kept surprising me,” she said, and it was worth it, of course, simply to see Shiro’s markings glow like beacons.


End file.
